A gorgeous Russian FSB agent is tasked with compromising an American executive in the Moscow Ritz. Mayhem ensues.

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Submitted: March 31, 2018

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Submitted: March 31, 2018

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"Your order is to compromise him, not to kill him.” Sergei looked at me through his bushy eyebrows as
he pushed a thick folder across his desk to me. “Don't make that mistake again, Tatiana."

I shook my head. I hated it when Sergei brought up The Incident. It had been over two years, which is a
lifetime in our business. He was a politician from Belgrade; a senior member of the country’s Democratic Party. It was practically a training exercise. And besides, he'd survived. "It
wasn't my fault he went into cardiac arrest. It was Pfizer's.” I glared at Sergei. How dare he question my tradecraft? “Thank goodness we've all been trained in CPR."

“You’ll need a team for this one, Tat. Four, possibly five girls. Our target has a fondness for
decadence. The more girls, the merrier.”

“Why is he being targeted?”

“Need to know, only. And you don’t need to know.”

I sighed. The men in charge liked to keep us operatives in the dark, when a little information and
understanding could improve matters immensely. I guessed that it was a well-connected local business partner trying to ensure future cooperation for some deal, but my suspicions would have to wait
for another day. “How old? What kind of girls does he like? What kinds of sex acts does he like?”

“Good questions. He’s 65, but out of shape. We believe he likes lots of women because then he can
watch.” Sergei shrugged and leaned in towards me. “He suffers from diminished sexual function, although I’m sure you can addressthatproblem. The dossier goes into this.”

“The dossiers are for shit, Sergei. I mean, you won’t even share the reasons we’re compromising him. I
need granular, actionable intelligence.” I pounded the desktop with my fist. “For instance, does he take Viagra? I don’t want a repeat of The Incident.”

“We believe he does. It’s in the dossier.” Sergei tapped the folder. “But you may want to include
Ludmilla on your team. She was a paramedic in the army before she came to the FSB.”

“Ludmilla, yes…Tall, blonde, perfect tits, right?”

“Yes! She can give an amazing blowjob and she’s great with defibrillator paddles. Ludmilla’s a real
asset.”

“Okay. Ludmilla’s in. If there’s a tall blonde, we need a short brunette. Is Svetlana
available?”

“Everyone is available, Tatiana. This assignment is a priority. We want only our best working on this.”
Sergei exhaled loudly and nodded in the general direction of the Kremlin. “It’s an order from above.”

“Oh.” This assignment had seemed straightforward, but if it was being directed by a certain senior
official, that raised the stakes. “I’d better get to work. I’ll let you know in the morning who I want on my team.”

“Excellent, Tatiana. Your team will need to be briefed and ready in three days. Friday night, I’ll
introduce you to ourhonoredvisitor.”

“What’s my legend?” Every agent needs a cover story, and I needed to know what Sergei had in
mind.

“You will be a prostitute, and the best English-speaker of a team of sex workers hired to entertain our
special guest.”

I sighed. “A hooker? Not a sales rep or a junior marketing executive?” These men often treated sex
workers with contempt. Going in as a prostitute meant a specific kind of experience from a certain kind of man.

“Please, Tatiana. You know better. These Americans view beautiful women like you as possessions to be
bought and sold. You’ll be affirming his beliefs.” I nodded. Of course Sergei was right. It was better and simpler if the American thought I was only a body and not a brain. “Besides, you don’t
want to talk to him. He’s ignorant and uncouth.” That knowledge perked me up.

I spent the night poring over the dossier and playing with possible team members. Ludmilla and
her paramedic training was an essential component, the man was old and fat. But I decided that my instinct to include a petite brunette was a mistake. Our target liked tall, skinny women with large
breasts. The dossier had photos of his wives, mistresses and girlfriends, and to the woman, they were what we called, “tits on a stick.” I became irritated with Sergei. With more time, the
team could have undergone a collective diet and be fitted for the correct push-up bras. We would have to make do.

The next day I met Sergei in his office with a stack of personnel files. “I’ve got my team.
Ludmilla for her tongue and for EMT backup.” Sergei nodded. “Anna, because she’s a wonderful improviser.” I’d worked with Anna previously, and she always had ideas on how to make the encounter more
depraved and outrageous. She had the nerves of a mountain climber, the body of a lingerie model, and the video she produced was impossibly pornographic.

“Oh, Anna. She’s very talented.” Sergei seemed pleased by where I was going.

“Valentina and Ekaterina. They have impossible cheekbones and they work really well together. I’ve
never seen two girls appear to enjoy one another so thoroughly, even as they maneuvered the gentleman into the middle of the fray. And me, of course.”

“Of course. That gives you two brunettes, a blonde and a redhead. All your bases are covered.” Sergei
chuckled. “The team sounds fantastic.” Sergei stroked the stack of files and coughed. “Do you need a training run? I’m happy to volunteer.”

“No, Sergei.” I sighed. “We want to be fresh for our visitor.” The FSB officers always wanted to
volunteer for these duty assignments, but I had no interest in subjecting my girls to such unnecessary treatment. Intelligence officers can enjoy the video second hand, they don’t get to enjoy us
first hand. It wasn’t just the decadent Americans who viewed us operatives as tools to be deployed and enjoyed. Someday, it might be necessary to run an operation on Sergei, but not yet. He
was still an adequate handler.

That afternoon, I met with my team to go over the plan. It took a few hours to choreograph the
evening, but the details were solid, and everyone knew what was expected. It was a routine operation, but for the interest from the Kremlin. I even had time to bring in a friendly saleswoman
from Agent Provocateur to outfit the team in padded bustiers and tiny thongs.

For the next two days, I had to deal with frequent calls and meetings. Sergei wouldn’t leave me alone.
It was an endless stream of questions:

Q: “Do you know where the cameras are?” A: “Of course, and we know the best angles for the best, most
lurid shots.”

Q: “What if he just wants to sleep?” A: “No fucking way. I’ll take care of him personally, and my
target never chooses sleep over my mouth or cunt.”

We went around in circles. It was a level of scrutiny and involvement I had never observed previously.
It did make me curious, however, who was pressuring Sergei about the mission’s success?

Finally, Friday night arrived. It was a relief to meet my team at a nearby hotel. All the details were
confirmed as the team applied fake eyelashes and the pale lipstick favored by The American’s stunning wife. We adjusted our bustiers, thongs, garters and stockings as we prepared to load into the
black minivan that would take us to the Ritz-Carlton.

“I’ll take the lead, girls. We are being offered as a gift to celebrate The American’s arrival in
Moscow.” The girls nodded seriously as I gave them a final pep talk. They understood these missions were serious business, and there was little room for error. Everyone had to be focused and
ready. “We want him to have a good time. An amazing time. The best time ever. So, Ludmilla, you know what to do to our guest.” Ludmilla nodded as she licked her lips. “Valentina and Ekaterina, you
will distract any security, or you will distract our target. Are you ready?” Valentina nudged Ekaterina, and they both stood smartly to attention in their Louboutin stilettos. “And Anna, you
and I are going to make this the filthiest, most outrageous encounter ever. More carnal than with the Serbian, dirtier than with the Azerbaijani. These videos will be legendary.” Anna purred as she
played with her hair. “We are going to give this man the night of his life. A night he will never forget, and one he will never live down. Are you ready, girls?”

“Ready, Tatiana. Let’s get him.” The girls spoke in unison.

Twenty minutes later we were in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, where Vitaly, the Concierge, was
expecting us. He’d been informed by the American’s local counterpart that there would be some “entertainment.” A security guard eyed us up and down as we ascended to the top floor of the hotel
where the Presidential Suite was located. In our tan trenchcoats and dark sunglasses, we looked like hookers dressed as secret agents, when in fact, we were the opposite.

The two bodyguards outside the suite seemed unimpressed by the spectacle of five tall women marching
down the plush hall. “He needs a minute. Wait here.”

“Okay, no problem.” I answered. “Whenever he’s ready, we’re ready, too. And how are you gentlemen
doing?” I nodded at Ekaterina, and she began to unbutton her trench, revealing a black and red bustier and lace top thigh highs. She tossed her long blonde hair at them, as she licked her
hips.

“There’ll be none of that out here, ladies. Save it for inside.” Ekaterina scowled as she held her coat
closed, in front of her chest.

“Sorry, she got a little carried away.” I looked at the senior guard. “You’re kind of cute. Can you
blame her?” He blushed as he held up his hand to show that he was married. I pawed at his chest. “Oh, as if a wedding band ever stops anyone.”

There was no more time to flirt. The door flung open, and a man in a bathrobe motioned us inside. We
complied with practiced enthusiasm. It was The American. “Hello. What have we here?”

I purred, “Welcome to Moscow! We’re here to make your visit more memorable. We hope you come back
often.” I put my mouth close to his face, intending to kiss him three times on the cheek, in typical Russian style, when he leaned in and put his lips to mine and gave me a wet, messy kiss
with a lot of tongue. “Oh, well hello!” I purred, when he released me. “I’m Tatiana. Who are you?”

“Me? I’m just here for a good time.” He grabbed Anna with his left hand as he opened her trenchcoat
with his right. “You girls know how to make that happen, doncha!” He licked his thin lips as he stared at Anna’s body. The tops of her breasts were practically bursting out of her corset.

I nodded at Ekaterina and Valentina who descended on The American, like vultures attacking carrion. He
was swarmed by women. One by one, we tossed our trenches aside and veered him towards the bedroom of the presidential suite. Anna peeled off and attacked the minibar, which wasn’t very mini. “Who
wants vodka?”

The American spoke up. “None for me, but help yourself, girls!” I gave Anna a glance. She opened the
bottle and took a suggestive swig out of it. Then she stuck her hand in her pussy, and ran her gooey finger around the lip of the bottle.

“Are you sure you don’t want a taste?” Anna tilted the bottle of Stoli at our host, who shook his
head.

I chimed in, “If he doesn’t want it, I’ll drink it. I love how Anna tastes.” I grabbed the bottle and
took a drink as I turned to The American, “You may want to try her yourself, Mr. Just Here for a Good Time.” He grunted. This was shaping up to be more difficult than I had anticipated.

Anna sauntered over to The American and pushed him down on the bed, while she knelt astride him in her
full lingerie getup. He grunted. “Take this stuff off. I wanna see your body.”

Anna gave her long red hair a toss as she proceeded to peel off her bra. She gave it a twirl,
like a cowboy with his lasso, and tossed it at Ludmilla who was hanging back. Anna turned around, and stuck her ass in the American’s face as she peeled off her panties, and then her garters
and stockings. She stood there naked, in front of him, letting The American take in her perfectly pert breasts, her tight waist and her completely bare pussy. I sauntered over, and stood
behind her as she played with her nipples in front of our target. I ran my fingers the length of her body, caressing her breasts, putting my fingers in her pussy and getting them nice and
wet.

I presented the sticky fingers to The American. “Here, taste her.” He shook his head again. I motioned
to Ekaterina to come over. “Here, you taste her.” Ekaterina stuck out her tongue and lapped at my fingers. She moved the tip of her tongue with delicate little motions. “I bet you’d like to feel
that for yourself?”

The American nodded and opened his bathrobe. His cock was soft and pink, as if he’d just emerged
from the shower. Ekaterina got down on the floor and went to work. I put Ludmilla on the bed next to the American. With a single, dramatic movement, I pushed her legs apart, and began to lick her
clit. The American nudged me. “No, not her. Me. Both of you.”

I got down on the floor next to Ekaterina, and he took turns shoving his semi-erect cock into our open
mouths. As much as the video was lurid, I feared the acts were something he’d be proud of, and not something that would elicit the necessary shame and regret. I signaled to Anna, who climbed onto
the bed behind our host. She got on all fours and wiggled her ass next to him. Valentina gave her a swat, as Anna howled in mock protest. The American glanced over at the pair, but seemed
uninterested in participating. Anna spoke up, “Oh spank me, please, mister.”

“Not today, honey.” Even as he was being swarmed by the hottest, most provocative women, his focus was
lacking. Stronger measures were required.

I went into my purse and pulled out a strap on and looked at the American. “Instead of spanking, Anna,
why don’t we take turns fucking her. Or we fuck her together. You take her ass, and I’ll take her pussy.”

“Oh, please fuck me in the ass, mister.” Anna gave him a pleading look as she pulled apart her cheeks,
revealing a pink puckered knot of flesh.

“Not tonight, girls. What else ya got?” Valentina whispered in my ear. The American looked at me.
“What’s she saying?”

“Well, Mr. I’m here for a good time, she’s saying she was in this room once before.”

This got his attention. “What for? What happened?”

I motioned to Valentina to expand further on her tale, and she whispered to me in rapid-fire Russian.
“She welcomed a businessman, and things got a little crazy. He liked very kinky things.”

“Who was he?” The American’s focus didn’t flag. He wanted all the gory details.

“Ah, some Canadian in real estate.”

“A Canadian? Was it Peter Jones?” Now he was really animated. The dossier had mentioned that his
biggest business rival was a financier from Canada.

Valtina looked away, as if she didn’t want to say something. I spoke up. “Well, it’s possible. It may
even be probable.”

“What did he like? What made it so kinky? -I know you girls have seen a lot.

I asked Valentina a few questions in Russian, and she replied with the story we’d concocted. “Uh,
Valentina peed on the Canadian. Right there on the bed.”

The American looked disgusted. ‘You pissed on the bed? With Peter beneath you? Fuck…..That’s
gross.”

“No, it’s not gross, it’s sexy. You see pussy, and the stream is warm and wet. You might like it. Do
you want to try it?”

“No, not for me.” He sat back on a chair opposite the bed, with his arms crossed against his
chest.

“How about we show you how sexy it is…We’ll play on the bed where the Canadian slept!”

I signaled to Valentina and Ekaterina to lie down on the bed, and then Anna and Ludmilla took their
positions on the top of the California King. Valentina and Ekaterina began to masturbate, a show any gentleman should enjoy. As the girls approached orgasm, Anna and Ludmilla simultaneously
released a warm stream of piss on their bodies. It got everywhere, on the blanket, the comforter, and the women rolled in it and on top of one another, as they all thrashed and twitched.

Part of our training is to demystify and desensitize ourselves to many of the things that others find
taboo. That training came in handy. The ladies proceeded to eat one another out, licking at each other’s clits in a pile worthy of an orgy. It was a tangle of limbs, arms, breasts and pussies.
Their long hair fell in dampened ringlets. The moans and sighs were audible and enchanting. Even I was excited by the lurid display.

While the girls wriggled on the bed, I took care of the American. I had become convinced that his
sexual function was substantially diminished, which was why he was so reluctant to participate in a more hands-on way. I got down between his legs and let him watch the wet, messy spectacle unfold
on the bed in front of him. The sight of four women writhing in ecstasy was hard to ignore.

His cock became firm in my mouth, as I lavished attention along its shaft and swirled my tongue over
its head. He leaned back on the chair, pawing at my head and drawing my face closer to his body. The American’s cock wasn’t especially large, so it was easy to deep throat him. I took the odd
swig of water, to keep my mouth wet as I played with prick. He grunted and thrust his hips into me. I took his every motion, and amplified it. My exaggerated bobs and swirls seemed to have an
effect, and soon, he was rock hard and fucking my face with confidence. It was clear that an orgasm was close.

At this stage, some men would want me to play with myself, to signal interest. He was not one of those
men. My arousal was of no concern to him. His arousal was his sole concern, a fact which simplified matters and confirmed details in the dossier.

As I sucked, I held the base of his cock, pressing firmly against his perineum, so that I would feel
the first tremors of orgasm. My fingertips gave me the first clue that he was close, there was a subtle twitch I’d been trained to recognize. I removed my mouth and said to him, “Spray me. I want
to feel you on my face and tits.” He grabbed his cock, and a few jerks later, he was covering my skin. He ejaculated like a sixteen year old, getting his cum on my cheek and chest. I took my
fingers and swirled them through the sticky mess.

I signaled to the girls to come over. We swarmed him, as we tilted his chair back until he was lying on
the floor. He didn’t budge as Ekaterina and Valentina licked his cum off my fingers. The American delighted in being consumed with enthusiasm.

He was unprepared for what came next. Anna and Ludmilla hovered over him and began to pee on his chest.
I straddled him, getting soaked myself, and leaned in for a kiss as the girls went to work on both of us. It had to look like he was having the time of his life.

After only a few seconds, The American sputtered and rolled off the chair onto the floor. “Get the fuck
out of here. Now. You’re trashed my suite.”

I turned to him, “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you wanted…”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.” His security guards appeared and eyed us as we gathered our
trenchcoats and bags. I grabbed some towels out of the bathroom as we scurried out the door. I also felt grateful our martial arts training hadn’t been necessary.

The next day, I met with Sergei as planned, to go over the operation. “Well done, Tatiana. The video is
amazing.”

“Thanks. The American was uncooperative, and kind of lazy, so we had to get creative.” I leaned back in
my chair. “You should also update his dossier. He’s not on Viagra. His cock was not medicated. Perhaps he has a heart condition?”

“We’ll look into it Tatiana. Excellent bit of intelligence.” Sergei leaned in and lowered his voice.
“The video has already been reviewed by the Kremlin.”

“No kidding. The mission was that significant?” My heart skipped a beat at the prospect of such
high-level scrutiny.

“Yes, and you exceeded expectations. Maybe you need some time off?”

“Who wouldn’t enjoy a vacation, Sergei?” This was a first. I’d done dozens of these missions, ad
none had elicited the offer of a holiday.

“Well, our friend at the Kremlin would like to get you alone for a long weekend on a yacht.”

“That doesn’t sound like a vacation to me, Sergei.”

“Well, he really liked what he saw in the video. He said you demonstrated ‘physical courage and a
commitment to the mission.’ He was an agent himself, you know. It could be very good to have a friend in high places. In the highest place, actually.”

I nodded. Yes, it could be very good. Excellent, in fact. “Count me in. I’d love to spend time with
him. Privately.”

It was an honor to be selected, so I went back to my apartment where I got to work on my flexibility.
I’d heard The Russian likes gymnasts, and my splits were a little rusty.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

Incredibly erotic and creative. Who knows how many times this probably really happens like this?

AuthorReply

Comment | 67 words

Sun, April 1st, 2018 11:22am

Yes - I was inspired by a certain dossier, which made me wonder about the behind-the-scenes mechanics of constructing an incriminating "pee tape"! It the tape happened, the logistics must have been something else.....I know the Russians are practiced at these sorts of things, but you still need the right people in the right place at the right time, to do all the WRONG things!!! :-)